Black Mage
by exsailor1999
Summary: What if a R.O.B. took a normal nerd from our world and inserted them into Harry Potter 'verse as an OC? This is going to be a slow build character driven story. Not a Gary-Stu…or at least I'm going to try to not make him one.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all related material is owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers. Cheers is owned by one of the big T.V. channels I think. And just to be on the safe side, since I am planning on adding other crossover elements eventually, if you recognize anything in this fic other than the plot than it is owned by somebody else. This is a not for profit fanfic. Please don't sue, I'm broke.

 **Pairings:** Al/?

 **Rating:** I'm gonna go with M just in case. There will be gratuitous violence and bad language for now. There will be some sexual situation, very later on…probably nothing explicit.

 **AN: I will try to avoid bashing any characters, but I will be taking any and all characters and portraying them as I think they would react in a given situation based off of their actions in canon, so basically at face value. Don't expect a happy ending for all canon or even most canon elements, in fact some of them might even end up dead...but we'll see.**

"Speech"

 _Thought_

 **Chapter 1**

 **15 June 1982.**

 **Cheers Bar, Boston.**

Albert Lundy was very confused. One moment he was standing in his garage working with a hammer and chisel in order to open a decorative lockbox that he'd felt compelled to open after acquiring it off of EBay. The next thing he knew he was sitting in an old school bar half way across the country with a pint of beer in his hand and some sort of god-like being explaining how he was going to be rewarded for freeing it from its prison.

"I took a look inside your mind," said the entity who was currently taking the appearance of the twin brother he'd never wanted. "I saw some interesting things in there, such possibilities".

Thinking on that Al realized that in his current situation running should be his only thought, or at the very least be so terrified that bladder control would be an issue. Contrary to either of those two scenarios, he was feeling oddly calm about the whole thing. As the middle aged nerd absently took a sip of his beer and pondered that conundrum, the thing wearing his face got up from the booth and went over to the bar. So he took the opportunity to familiarize himself with his new surroundings and realized that the bar was strangely familiar. It took him a moment to pluck the relevant information from his sluggish memory banks, and several more to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming. _I mean really, who expects to have a conversation with a R.O.B. in a fictional bar from a mediocre sit-com that went off the air more than 30 years ago._ But when he pinched himself it hurt, so he wasn't dreaming…and yet this clearly wasn't a set because there were no cameras and all four walls were intact. Taking another look around, everyone was dressed in early 80s styles and there was a young Ted Danson look alike serving a drink to a young and beautiful Kiristie Alley.

When the being that had decided to take over Al's life returned to the booth, it took off its sunglasses, looked him in the eye and said, "I've ordered us some food. I normally don't need to eat but I haven't had the chance for…well let's say a very, very long time and feel like indulging. And for the sake of this conversation, since names have power and I'm not going to give you mine, not that your tiny mind could comprehend it anyway, you may refer to me as Wanderer."

Having no idea how to respond to that statement, Al chose to ignore it and instead studied the creature that was currently passing for his evil twin brother and wondered what he/she/it really looked like. _Wanderer huh? The last thing I can remember before being here was opening that damn box and having some sort of black oily tentacle thing that grab hold of my head. Then agony, before I passed out and the next thing I knew I was here._ Currently it wore the form of a rather non-descript white male in his mid 30s on the tall side of average and hidden under his shirt, there should be the slight beer gut typical of American men everywhere and sporting short auburn hair and rather dull blue eyes. He was neither handsome, nor ugly but rather with a face that easily got lost in a crowd and utterly forgettable.

"As I said before," carried on his evil twin, "I took a look inside your mind and saw some very interesting things. Your species has certainly grown since I last peeled back the layers of a Human brain and examined what passed for a soul with your lot."

Now that Wanderer had mentioned it, Al's head did feel as if someone was jabbing an ice-pick into both of his temples simultaneously, and there was a strange sense of incompleteness in his chest, like something was missing. It sort of felt like when he'd gotten his heart broken by Jenny Taylor back in high school, an ache that felt like it would never go away…only this was different somehow. _It feels more like my heart was torn and then stitched back together rather than simply broken._ "You will recover," assured the thing that had been trapped in the box, "souls and minds are easier to take apart than to put back together. And I may have had some pieces left over after fixing you up but that's always the case when you perform DIY. You'll feel better after something to eat."

Al would have to take his (or perhaps it's) word on that. He had no idea what was wrong with him but at least he felt physically well. In fact if anything he had a level of energy that he hadn't felt since childhood. His body seemed lighter as well, as if he'd lost weight and as he took a closer look at the being sitting across from him he noticed that. Checking his arms allowed Al to realize that the few scars he'd acquired in over the years had vanished and he seemed to have a bit of muscle that he didn't remember ever having before. Not to mention that he was seeing everything in crystal clear Technicolor despite not wearing his glasses.

"I made some modifications to your meat-suit," explained Wanderer, "just a few minor improvements as an experiment for the duration of our conversation. I'll probably allow you to keep them or give you something similar as part of your reward…It should makes up for the spiritual damage. Hopefully you won't end up like that Gabriel character you're a fan of and end up feeling the need to fill the emptiness by killing all the other versions of yourself. "

Searching his memory, which was an easy task as everything came to him fast and crystal clear for some reason, allowed him to remember a film starring Jet Li where a superhuman criminal runs around the multi-verse killing the alternate versions of him-self in order to become some sort of god-like being. Given the gaping hole Al felt in his very being he wondered if it could be filled by taking the life force of other versions of him-self. Feeling a little dry in the mouth at that thought, he drank down the beer and grimaced at how casually he'd just thought of committing murder. _Or was it suicide?_

"Reward?" He asked after a rather lengthy silence had developed between them, "I'm getting a reward?"

"Yes, I want to pay you back for freeing me," replied the being looking just like him. "I saw some fun possibilities while rummaging around your head and just improving your body is poor payment for what you have done for me even if you didn't mean to do it."

A deck of playing cards appeared and were spread out on the table between them. But instead of showing the normal suits of hearts and diamonds etc. they were instead each labeled with a picture of a figure from fantasy genre. And he recognized many of them. The Overlord of Evil. A Dungeon Keeper's Heart. A Daemon Prince from Warhammer Fantasy and a few wizards of different kinds were just a few of the images shown on the playing cards.

"I'd include a selection from the Science Fiction franchises that you love so much in the offer, but I need to keep a low profile unless I want to end up back in that box."

The puzzled look on his face at that statement made it clear that Al would like a more detailed explanation to understand, so Wanderer clarified what it meant. "A long time ago in another reality I had the misfortune to meet an entity called, well…you can't hear it, your voice box couldn't pronounce it and your mind would vaporize if you actually heard its' name so I'll just refer to it as, 'The One Between'. 'The One Between' likes to play games as when your all powerful it's far more interesting to do things using pawns than it is to do anything yourself because there's no challenge in the game if you can't lose." The whole thing sounded like something Q from Star Trek would get up to. The entity Al was sharing a booth with must be powerful on that level or greater to have transported him to what should just be a fictional setting. The thought of a being powerful enough to entrap a Q level being was terrifying. "'The One Between' and I decided to play a game. I cheated and ended up that box you freed me from. How my prison ended up on this tiny little ball of dirt in the backwater that you oh so fondly refer to as your home reality and being bought online I have no idea but its lucky for us both that it did and you did."

"If this 'Betweener guy' is so powerful then why are we lucky?" Al asked. He was rather anxious now as he didn't want to end up trapped in a box for all time, or worse, for aiding and abetting in an inter-dimensional jail break.

"'The Measurer of Balance' tends to direct its' attentions towards matters that effect entire universes so it's doubtful that 'The Scale' will concern itself with us if we stick to more primitive worlds such as this."

That particular statement didn't exactly reassure him either. The entity was mysterious and judging by its titles it wasn't something he could of think of as good or evil. It might be something totally beyond his understanding and in every plot of every book or movie he could recall, the things that couldn't be understood tended to be very dangerous. Al could only hope that the thing he'd freed was right and that anything he did would be beneath the notice of its rivals/enemies. That didn't, however, mean he would be safe as the ants he'd caught beneath his feet when walking were far beneath his notice but that didn't stop him from crushing them. Al might end up being squashed if this 'The Scale' decided to re-trap the thing he'd freed. The food then arrived and Al felt a great amount of hunger so he tucked into something that appeared to be fried meat. As they ate he decided to change the subject as Al got the feeling he didn't want to know more about this 'The Scale' thing so he asked Wanderer about something else.

"What's this reward you were speaking of earlier, before we got sidetracked?"

"According to your memories you've been playing the 'What I'd do' game all of your life. So I'm going to insert you into a fantasy setting of your choice as a character of my choice. I chose these fantasy figures because as I said earlier 'The Beholder of All' of all doesn't tend to bother with the affairs of singular worlds and you'd have to try and conquer whole galaxies to be worthy of 'The Scales' attentions."

Again he'd have to take its' word on that, but for some reason he was inclined to trust the Wanderer. "So as long as you stick to small worlds like this one and those you read about in Fantasy novels, movies and games, you'll be fine." assured the Traveller, "And there's lots of magical items out there for you to claim if you want a power boost. As for me, I'm going to go and have some fun of my own. I might try out some of the ideas I got from your head. There are an infinite number of Earths out there that could do with livening up. Maybe I'll even find some other versions of you and let them join in the fun if I can arrange it with the help of a few friends".

Upon hearing that he should have felt sorry for those worlds and the other versions of him out there but for some reason he just didn't care, although he knew he should. The parts of him that felt things like mercy and pity for others seemed to be absent. He should be feeling guilt as well, as anything that happened to those alternative versions of him-self was at least partially his fault.

"But since this is your reward I'll let you pick your knew life. I'd like to see you pick the Deadric Prince card as I can foresee a lot of fun with that but let's leave it to chance shall we?"

Since he couldn't really think of anything else to ask, and with the attitude that he might as well bite the bullet and get it over with, Al pushed his plate of food and pint of beer aside while Wanderer shuffled the pack. Then the god-like being spread the cards between them on the table but with the pictures hidden. Al would rather have known what he was picking or just backed out but he got the feeling that the only option he had available that would allow him to live was to pick a card and hope for the best. So he picked a card up and turned it over, but before he could find out what it showed Al blacked out again and woke up somewhere else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **24 September 1990.**

 **Hogsmeade Village, Scotland.**

"Bran, what's that there in the bushes?" Henry Smythe asked his older brother, as he pointed out a piece of cloth lying in a patch of tall grass just off the path leading away from the main thoroughfare of Hogsmeade village. Gideon shrugged his shoulders to show his unconcern after peering at where his little brother indicated.

"It's just an old bit of rubbish Henry. Come on before dad gets worried; we were supposed to be back an hour ago." Bran said as he turned away and began to trot along the path towards his home. Hearing his brother's urgent yell he stopped and turned back.

"It moved! There's something in it!" Quickly running back to where his younger brother hadn't moved as he investigated whatever it was that had caught his attention. Bran could just make out the slow shifting bit of grey cloth. Pushing Henry back behind him, the older boy removed his wand and walked cautiously forwards into the untamed grass patch.

The farther in he walked, the more cloth he could see. Suddenly, realization hit him; it was a sweater. It was torn, dirty, covered in mud and what looked like blood, but it was definitely a sweater with the hood up. He gripped his wand tighter and leaned forward into a fighting stance that he'd picked up at Hogwarts where he'd studied magic like all other affluent British magic users. Fearing what he might find underneath, Bran slowly pulled the cloth back to reveal what lay hidden. And then the recently graduated 17 year old young man prayed to Merlin that he hadn't. Underneath the hood was the filthy face of a child around nine or ten-years-old dressed in muggle clothing, but no one, no matter what age or blood status should ever look like the body that Bran was witness to. Horrified, Bran was unable to contain the gasp of shock as the wind was literally knocked right out of him. Dried blood caked the unfamiliar boy's face and hair, while bruises scattered across his features to make him appear bloated. Quickly turning to his younger brother he yelled in a panicked voice from a face that had paled to the color of ivory, "Go get Dad now! Run!" Hearing the urgency in his brother's voice, Henry sprinted towards their cottage as fast as he could.

As his brother ran up the path, Bran turned back towards the boy and checked for a pulse. At first he couldn't find anything, but before panic could set in he managed to locate a weak and thready beating underneath his touch. As the teen looked over the abused child, he saw a plethora of bruises and cuts lining his arms and face. As he waited for his father to arrive, Bran turned the boy over on his back hoping that it would help with the boy's ragged breathing. Looking at the child's chest forced the Bran's gorge to rise and immediately vomited, barely having the presence of mind to turn away before letting the bile spew out. Never had he seen anything so horrific. Someone had literally skinned a part of the boy's chest.

A short while later Bran had recovered enough to be able to pay attention to the child again. Even to the untrained ear the breathing sounded forced, labored. He could only study the boy's face as he waited for help; cursing the fact that Hogwarts didn't teach even cursory healing. For the first time in his life, Bran felt helpless; helpless at the fact that he couldn't aid a severely injured boy. He was also enraged; enraged at the child's condition, and murderous that anyone would dare bring that much harm on a defenseless kid. He became even more worried when the child let out some hacking coughs and spluttered up some blood. He was brought out of his thoughts at the sound of pounding feet quickly approaching. Glancing up, Bran let out a huge sigh of relief as he saw his father racing towards him. _Dad will be able to help him._

Edward didn't even pause as he jumped into the grass with his wand out stretched and ran to his oldest son who was standing pale faced over the body of a small boy. The boy lying on the ground was clearly dying. Edward was shocked to see a child who'd clearly been tortured but didn't allow his surprise to stop him from doing what he could for the child. Bending down and picking up the boy, he turned to his son and in a tense voice said, "Go home and tend to your siblings; I'll be back as soon as I can, fire-call your aunt if you need anything and let her and your mother know I'll be at St. Mungo's." Having finished his instructions, Edward spun on his heel and vanished with an accompanying loud crack typical of apparition.

 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, London.**

Having given the boy over to the care of the healers, who immediately set to work in a desperate bid to save his life, Edward was led to a separate room and once privacy spells had been cast, vigorously questioned by a young wizard that had the fresh out of Hogwarts look, in the light blue robes that were standard attire for employees at St. Mungo's, with the badge of a trainee Healer gleaming upon his chest.

"I am Apprentice Healer Jordan Piper, now sir what can you tell me of the boy, his injuries, and how he acquired them?" The younger man said as soon as the door was closed and they were assured of privacy.

Unfortunately, Edward could tell the Healer very little. Once Healer Piper had heard the whole story, he was beyond furious that such a small child was found unattended and badly injured not 10 feet from a busy thoroughfare. After finishing the interview, the Apprentice Healer directed Edward to a waiting area and left to confer with the healers treating the boy.

Edward entered the waiting area and ignoring the strangers within, sat down in an unoccupied chair near the back wall. As he leaned back into his chair whilst rubbing his eyes wearily; he tried desperately to get the image of the prone little body lying motionless in the grass out of his mind. Shuddering, he remembered the ragged breathing and the dried blood on the boy's face. As he anxiously waited to hear the fate of a total stranger, Edward Smythe felt totally lost; he could only wait and hope that the boy would pull through.

"Mr. Smythe?" Healer Piper asked the waiting room in general as he looked around for the man he needed to speak with.

Edward quickly got to his feet and made his way over to the healer, his entire demeanor radiating concern. "How is he?"

The healer looked extremely uncomfortable and motioned Edward into a nearby office. Once they were both safely inside and the healer put up some security wards he began to talk.

"The boy you brought in may or may not live. It's hard to tell at the moment because of the extent of his injuries."

"What exactly are his injuries?" Mr. Smythe asked, knowing they had to be bad for a healer to look hesitant about discussing them.

"Strictly speaking I am not supposed to discuss his condition with you, but since we do not know who he is, and you did bring him in, I feel that you should at least be somewhat informed."

Edward nodded his understanding as he motioned for the Healer to continue.

"He is suffering from twelve fractures, several severely infected gashes, he's missing perhaps 10% of his surface skin, he has internal bleeding, a concussion and overexposure to some rather dark curses…" Piper said in a rush as if desperate to get it off his chest, trailing off at the end and looking troubled. "He is also currently in a magical coma from a severe drain on his magic, which complicates his treatment as most of our methods of healing rely on the patient's own magic to help. With his magic as depleted as it is we can't do much for him."

Edward was horrified at what the young Healer was telling him. Whatever the boy had gone through had to have been intense to drain the boy's magic as much as the healer was indicating. _Wait a minute…dark curses?_ "What kind of curses are you talking about?" Mr. Smythe asked sharply.

"Well, we found traces of some boarder line curses that while not officially dark are usually considered as such, such as the flogging curse and the flaying curse. He also has all the indicators of repeated, exposure to the Cruciatus curse." The young man said with a shudder.

Edward collapsed into a nearby chair, absolutely stunned at the viciousness the boy had been subjected too.

Piper looked as if he was going to be sick just thinking about it, a feeling that Edward was experiencing himself. _Who in the world would torture a child like that?_

"Merlin's beard…" Edward muttered, looking extremely faint. "Have you alerted the Ministry?"

"The Master Healer in charge of the boy's case, Romilda Dulles, is informing the Ministry as we speak. They should be sending over an Auror team to investigate. Thanks to your swift action we've managed to fix most of the damage. And the rest is just a matter of time. As long as his body is able to regenerate his magic, we should be able to have him healed a few days after that. Whether or not he wakes up…? That can't be answered at this time as the boy may no longer wish to live, in cases like this the patients will to survive is often the deciding factor on whether or not they recover."

Not knowing how to respond to that, Edward simply nodded his understanding. Both men sat back and became lost in their respective thoughts as they waited for the Aurors to arrive.

A few minutes later two middle aged men in the red robes that denoted them as Ministry Aurors entered the room. The first was slightly tanned with blonde hair, dark hazel eyes and a face that was lined from years of laughing and smiling. However, he currently had a somber expression as he surveyed the two men before him. The second man was the elder of the duo with a head of curly black hair lined with grey and bright brown eyes. They had both read the report on the injuries found on the boy, and needless to say they were shocked and repulsed that someone could do such things to a child.

"I would normally greet you gentlemen with a Good Afternoon, but considering the circumstances…" The older man began with a hard voice filled with years of professionalism before trailing off. Edward and the young Healer both nodded to indicate their understanding.

"My name is Auror Baldwin and this is Auror Branson."

"Apprentice Healer Jordan Piper and this is the man that brought the boy in…"

"Edward Smythe."

"Very good. Shall we get started?" Auror Baldwin said as he pulled out a roll of parchment and a dicta-quill.

"Date is Monday the 24th of September 1990. This is an interview of Apprentice Healer Jordan Piper of St. Mungo's and civilian Edward Smythe a witness, conducted by Master Auror Thomas Baldwin and Auror Carl Branson." The older Ministry employee began dictating as his charmed quill wrote down his words. What followed a rather extensive questioning session in which the main responses from Edward were 'I don't know.'

Eventually the Aurors informed Edward that the interview was over. At that point Healer Piper chimed in saying that there was nothing else that Edward could do at the hospital and he might want to think about heading home to his family. Before leaving, Edward left his Floo address for the Aurors in case they needed anything else, or a statement from his children and made the young Healer promise to fire-call him when or if the boy had any changes in his health before apparating home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **1 October 1990.**

 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, London.**

If death is darkness, then birth is like having a spotlight shined in your eyes after an hour in the dark. First he experienced a firestorm of sensations. Everything was overwhelming. Colors…swirls…patterns…They kept flashing past his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried he could neither grasp nor understand them. And every light was a fire in his skull. The sounds in the background were explosions in his head. The feel of cloth against his skin irritated him immensely, as every shift of his muscles caused it to grate as if someone had taken a sandblaster to his skin.

Adaptation was rapid, but until that moment life was an agony beyond description. As the pain faded to a mere dull roar, much of it was replaced by fatigue. Though, maybe fatigue wasn't the best word to describe the magnitude of it. It was like being trapped in quicksand and being inexorably dragged back into an abyss of oblivion. Al let out a moan of despair as he tried more desperately to grasp the colors…and there! An eternity of effort led to Al being able to open his eyes, where he was immediately blinded by white light. _Am I alive? Where am I?_ Fighting the burning of the light, he slowly squinted his eyes open and released a low groan of pain. After blinking away some tears of pain, he finally managed to begin to make out his surroundings.

Through lowered lids, his inquisitive gaze made a study of the room Al found himself in. The room around him seemed…odd. The light fixtures looked more like oil lamps than normal and hospitals almost always used fluorescents anyway. He'd seen enough medical dramas over the years to know. These had what looked a ball of flame at the center of the glass, well whatever they were, they were bright.

The sheets were coarse for what he imagined a hospital bed to feel like, as they were more like canvas than cotton. They were neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, giving more of a blah feeling than anything as they seemed serviceable enough. The bed itself was rather interesting though. Instead of being in a fancy adjustable plastic bed, or even an old time metal bed frame, he could see a shiny wooden footboard down at his feet.

He was clearly in a hospital, something he could tell simply by sniffing the air. Every medical facility he had ever been in always had the same smell of disinfectants. But the bed, the lights, and some indefinite sixth sense led Al to believe that he wasn't in 2016 anymore. Everything appeared old fashioned. The room was medium-sized; off-white; and had a window framed in old school cloth draperies of pale blue. The window was wide closed, keeping what looked like a veritable ocean of rain from coming in to the room.

Bringing his hand up to rub his eyes, Al paused in shock. Even though his glasses were gone not only could he make out everything in the room with amazing detail, but he could also make out that something was not quite right with his hand. Bringing it closer to his face, Al gaped at its appearance. Quickly looking down he began to feel his body and limbs with a disbelieving look of horror plastered on his face. He was small! Was he even in his own body? _What the hell did the Wanderer do to me?_

" **Nothing much. I just gave you a new meat suit as the old one was a little worn."**

"What?" he asked aloud in shock, with Wanderer's voice reverberating in his head.

" **You don't need to speak aloud, someone is liable to think you're off your rocker. And to answer your question, you didn't expect me to let you come to this world in your old body did you? I told you, you got to pick the setting, I got to pick your character."**

"Bloody Hell." _Wait did I just curse in British?_

" **You did,"** the Wanderer responded smugly, his 'voice' emanating somewhere in Al's neo-cortex.

 _What the hell?_

" **Your mind is beginning to subconsciously tap into that body's memories."**

 _Your saying I'm going to gain access to all of the knowledge and memories of whoever's body this is as well as my own for as long as I'm in here with him?_

" **Except for the part about being with him, you're correct. You're all alone in there."**

At that, Al began to hyperventilate. _What? Why would you body jack some kid?_

" **Human memories are a result of a chemical interaction within your brains, but they are hard coded onto your soul as well. That way you know what you're being punished or rewarded for in your afterlife if you are a member of a particular faith. Your particular soul wasn't cleansed of your last life before I inserted you into your new body, and so you retain your original thoughts and memories. By doing it this way, I have allowed you to retain who you are but all gain all of the memories that were created throughout your new body's life with its previous owner. Get it?"** the Wanderer informed him as if speaking to a particularly retarded child.

 _If I'm supposed to have someone else's memories, where are they? Whose body is this and where is he? For that matter, WHERE AM I?_

" **You're in the body of a boy named Al, which I thought was a nice piece of symmetry. This is a room in St. Mungo's Hospital in the British Wizarding World of what you would call a Harry Potter world. And finally, he's dead."** The R.O.B. sounded particularly exasperated as it answered Al's panicked questioning.

 _Wait…Dead?_

" **Yes. In the world you think of as Harry Potter canon, Algol Black died before Harry Potter reentered the Wizarding World. He and his mother were killed by a couple of…what do you call them? Fudge Munchers? Which was actually what landed your body here. Congratulations, you are the son of Regulus and the nephew of Sirius Black. And the reason that you don't have conscious access to his memories is because I'm suppressing them for the duration of this conversation."**

 _So I'm going to be gaining the memories of a ten year old pureblood?_

" **No. You're going to be gaining the memories of a ten year old halfblood raised in the muggle world."**

 _Lovely. At least it should be familiar. And why have you placed me in this boy's body?_

" **As simply transporting you into the time stream of this reality would have attracted the attention of the Powers that Be and resulted in your erasure from existence, I have granted you a new life instead. Inserting a brand new soul to a closed system like this reality would have been noticeable, but replacing one soul with another is simplicity itself. Besides, I have no interest in dealing with that bitch Fate. Balance is important and owing a human is just embarrassing. Just placing you in this universe and allowing for your deletion wouldn't have been enough of a reward for what you did. Thus, with this action, my debt to you is paid."**

 _So you aren't going to be sticking around?_

" **You aren't that interesting mortal. This is a onetime repayment of the debt I incurred when you released me from my prison. I have granted your greatest wish, to make you capable of performing magic. Because I'm awesome I even went above and beyond for you. As Algol Regulus Black you are the heir to a powerful Lordship in this society, you're rich, and have a guaranteed place in a school where you can learn how to use your magic. Do you agree that the payment is sufficient?"**

 _And if I say it isn't?_ He asked, momentarily overcome with greed at the thought of all the different self inserts he'd read and what having his own personal R.O.B could do for him.

" **I'm sure I could come with something else."**

 _No! We're good. The payment is sufficient!_ Al replied as his common sense and self-preservation combined to kick him in the metaphorical backside after hearing the tone the cosmic horror had responded with.

" **Then we're done. Pray to a higher power of your choice that we never cross paths again."** As the eldritch horror finished 'speaking' Al instinctively felt the entity leave his mind. He had just had a chance to start contemplating his new situation when an avalanche of thoughts, memories, and sensations consumed him and he blacked out.

When Al regained consciousness a slew of memories and sensations were waiting for him. Suddenly knowing everything about the boy whose body he'd been placed in from the smell of his mother Sandy's perfume and his favorite swing at the park to the day Professor MacGonagall had shown up at his house and told him he was a wizard. He remembered his mother denying him a place at Hogwarts and how he begged and whined until she caved in and gave him permission. And he remembered the attack. From the memories and using his otherworldly knowledge, Al recognized MacNair and one other Death Eater, but Al wasn't sure who…from the size of the man it was probably either Crabbe or Goyle. Based on Algol's memories of the conversation between the two dark wizards, when his name came up in the Book of Admittance and his Hogwart's Acceptance letter was sent out, the fact that an heir of Regulus was alive constituted a threat to Lucius' precious Draco inheriting the Black fortune. So Lucy sent out one of his minions with an old comrade and they set out to eliminate him. After murdering his mother, Fatso told MacNair to feel free to play with the boy and then left. After some horrific torture, Al felt a sensation akin to being squeezed through a tube, which he assumed meant apparition, and then the memories end.

As Al was coming to terms with his new memories he heard quick footsteps nearing his door. A few moments later Al's door opened and a young man in a powder blue robe walked in before stopping suddenly with an expression of shock on his face. Whether it was at the room being occupied or Al being he wasn't sure.

Without saying a word the young healer pulled out a wand and began waving it in patterns and saying words in Latin. Assuming he was performing some kind of diagnostic regimen, Al waited rather impatiently for him to finish. As the spells progressed a 3-D hologram in blue colors streaked with greens began to take shape in the air over Al's bed ridden form. Even being completely ignorant of both medical and magical matters, Al could tell that he was in good shape just based on the fact that blue was the dominant color with veins of green, which Al assumed were magic channels as they joined up in a knot under his lungs where most fan fiction authors put the mysterious magical core. Looking at the hologram led Al to assume that it was showing him to be in perfect health based on the baffled look on the young healer's face.

 _How is this possible? His magic was completely depleted only four days ago…he shouldn't be conscious for at least another week. Not to mention all of his injuries are healed._

"How are you feeling young man?" The healer asked after a moment.

"Tired but otherwise fine…Where am I?" the boy with a man's mind asked, playing the ignorance card for all he was worth. "And who are you?" He asked trying to make his voice sound scared.

"My name is Healer Piper and you are in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Now could you tell me how you came to be in the state you were found in?"

"I don't know…the last thing I remember before waking up here is two men in black robes showing up at my house and hurting me and my mom."

"You don't remember how you were hurt? Or how you ended up off the path leading out of Hogsmeade?"

"What's Hogsmeade? And all I remember is the men, then pain, then a squeezing feeling. Then I was here. What's wrong with me?"

"You were found badly injured off a path leading out of Hogsmeade village. We didn't know who you were so we had no way to contact your parents. What's your name son?"

"Al Black."

"And where do you live Al?"

"99 Bridgestreet, Berwick upon Tweed in Northumberland."

"Well, when the Aurors get here in a few minutes we'll be sure to tell them, and they can go and get your parents…alright?"

"Aurors?" Al asked playing the ignorance card again for all he was worth.

"Yes they're the people that catch the bad wizards."

"Like police?"

"I don't know much about the muggle world but I think that's what muggle Aurors are called." As the young healer finished speaking the door behind him opened and a pair of men in red robes walked in.

As Al looked them over he saw that both men were built much like he was before meeting up with the Wanderer and ending up in his current circumstances. Both were tall with years of mileage on their faces. One had blonde hair and the other had dark hair lined with grey, they both had smiles as they greeted him. As the two men introduced themselves as Aurors Branson and Baldwin, they pulled up a pair of chairs and sat down next to Al's bed.

After having gotten comfortable, Auror Branson pulled out a roll of parchment and a grey feather quill and set them on the bed and giving the quill a tap with his wand. He then began to dictate to it with the date, time, location and people in the room. As he spoke the quill danced across the surface of the parchment, transcribing his words. As much as Al tried to hide it, the wonder he felt at the fact that he was witnessing magic in person must have shown upon his adolescent face, judging by the indulgent looks all three men were giving him.

"Other than when the Professor came to the house and told me I was a wizard I've never seen magic," he said. The boy didn't have to feign the enthusiasm in his voice since his body was that of a child and therefore flooded his system with adrenaline at the slightest provocation.

"Alright Al, for the record I need your full name, your address, and your date of birth."

"Aww…do I have to? I hate saying my full name." Al put as much childish whine as he could into his voice when he responded to that question, both to sell his nature as a kid with an embarrassing name and also because he really wasn't a fan of it.

"I'm afraid so. We need it for the paperwork." Baldwin said, manfully trying to suppress a laugh at the boy's tone.

"Algol Regulus Black. I live at 99 Bridgestreet, Berwick upon Tweed in Northumberland. I was born on September 20, 1979." He pretended not to notice the flinch the Aurors made at his name.

"That's a rather unique name Al…" Branson said with a questioning tone, suddenly getting a very bad feeling. _Please just be a coincidence. An attack on a muggleborn is bad, but if he's connected to an Ancient and Noble House the Prophet will make sure the public loses their minds._ When the case was assigned to them by Madam Bones it was a simple, albeit vicious case of assault on a muggle. When it was discovered that the boy had magic it got bumped up to an assault on a muggleborn, a more serious crime. But if this was an attack on the House of Black, it was going to be bumped way up the priority list and they were going to have to deal with politics. Something neither he nor Baldwin wanted to do. The Malfoy heir was the current heir to the Lordship of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, since the disowning and imprisonment of Sirius Black at the end of the Blood War and the death of his younger brother Regulus the year prior. If this boy was a child of the house of Black, or worse an heir to Regulus, he would supercede the Malfoy boy in the line of succession and Lucius would be bound to get involved, since there was no way he would take that lying down. And if the former Death Eater decided to throw his two knuts into this mess, then he was going to bring his 'good friend' the Minister in as well. And that would be a nightmare.

"Yeah, apparently my dad's family has a tradition of naming people after stars. My mother couldn't tell me why, or why he picked that one."

"What are your parent's names?" Baldwin asked, without realizing it, he suddenly had the same bad feeling as his partner. Branson on the other hand instinctively knew that his hopes of this being a crime against a muggleborn had vanished after hearing that tradition.

Al sighed and lowered his eyes. The Aurors did what he hoped and became quite somber as the boy said, "Sandra Owens and Regulus Black."

"And where are they?" Baldwin asked.

"Mom told me that my dad died in some war before I was born. But she would never tell me what branch of the military he was in or what unit he served with, or even who he was fighting. She always said that it was complicated and that she would explain when I was older." All three men traded significant looks at that, before returning their attention to Al as he continued. "My mother…I think she's dead too. Before the fat man left, he shot a green light at my mom from his stick and she stopped yelling and moving. From the way they were acting they didn't expect to her to get up again." Al said, the tear trickling down his cheek and the cracking in his voice weren't feigned on his part as he genuinely did feel pain at the loss of Sandy Owens, even if they hadn't met, she was a far better to Algol, than his own mother had ever been to him in his last life.

"Al, would you like to take a break?"

"No…I'd rather get this over in one go. Mom always said when something bad happens, it's better to rip the band aid off then peel it back."

"I see…she sounds like a smart lady. I promise we'll do what we can to find out where she is and what happened to her." Branson said with a kind smile. "Can you walk us through what you remember of what happened to you?"

"I guess." Al said feigning reluctance. "Like I told Mr. Piper," he said as he indicated the silent Healer. "I came home from school a couple of days after the teacher from the magic school came and told me I was a wizard. Professor MacGonagall turned our sofa into a lion! It was brilliant. And then she said I could learn how to do it too! She wanted me to come to her school when it starts next year because you have to be eleven to go but my birthday was a couple of weeks after the term started, so I had to wait a year. But Mom said I couldn't go. I begged and begged and eventually she said I could." Al paused to take a sip of the water that was on his bedside table before continuing. "Then like I said a couple of days later I came home from school and my mom was sticking to the wall in the living room, like someone had covered it in superglue and just stuck her up there like she was a poster, and two men in robes like yours but all black with white masks were standing there. Mom told me to run but before I could one of them shot a colored light at me and I couldn't move. Then the fat one shot a blue light at me. He then told the skinny one that I was the one they were here for. He turned to my mom and shot a green light at her. Then the fat one said, 'Have fun.' to the other one and disappeared with a loud cracking sound. After that everything gets blurry, but I remember a lot of pain…and then a squeezing all over my body and then I was here."

"Would you be willing to share your memory with us?" Baldwin asked.

"You can read my mind?" He asked, with a nervousness that he didn't have to fake. A legilimense could complicate matters. _I wonder if they can read my previous life's memories since they're a part of my soul and not my body?_ Plus if he could get the man to explain the process it would serve as an excuse for his knowledge of an obscure branch of the mental arts.

"Some wizards and witches can, it's a branch of magic called Legilimency." The Auror replied. "Occlumency is the magic of shielding the mind and can be used to combat it. But what we're actually asking is for you to donate a copy of the memory. That way we can show it through the use of a magical device called a pensieve. If you were to donate your memory then we could take it back to the Ministry and show it around to others in the hopes of identifying the men you saw."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not at all…you just concentrate on picturing what happened as clearly as you can and I'll do the rest." Corwin said. "Just nod when you're ready."

"Okay." Al said, before closing his eyes and concentrating on his body's last memory before waking up in the hospital. When he nodded to show he had it, Auror Corwin placed the tip of his wand against the boy's temple and slowly drew out a brilliantly silver whisp of smoke like material and placed it into a glass vial he'd retrieved from a pocket.

"And all done. That didn't hurt now did it Al?"

"No it kind of tickled."

"Good. Now we're going to need a quick blood sample as well and then we'll leave you alone to get some rest." Baldwin said as he pulled out a piece of parchment with a silver tint to it.

"Why do you need a blood sample? I really don't like needles."

"I'm glad you asked Al. Never, ever give your blood out to strangers, it can be used for bad things with magic. The reason we'll need it is to test it against our records to find out if you have any magical relatives. Based off of what your mother told you, I think you might be related to some people here in the Wizarding world. We'll need a blood sample to perform a heritage test. A few drops on this special parchment is all we'll need. It's charmed to use your blood to tell us who your family is for three generations. I'm not going to lie to you…it's going to sting a bit, but then your finger will heal right up." Branson said in a comforting tone.

"Oh…okay." The boy held out his hand as the Auror drew a small dagger from his belt. A prick against his finger, three drops of blood and a quick spell later and it was all over. After Baldwin returned his dagger to its sheath he turned his attention to the charmed parchment along with everyone else in the room. After a few seconds the blood writhed before spreading it out and began to form in varying colors and in one case, glowing words. Algol Regulus Black glowed a brilliant purple and was connected by lines to a pair of names just above his, Regulus Arcturus Black and Sandra Victoria Owens-Black both in purple but without a glow. Above Regulus' name were the names Orion and Walburga Black, also in a dull purple, just as Al expected. But the names above his mother's were a shock. Morfin Gaunt was showing in the same purple as the other names while Christine Owens was a dull brown.

 _Wanderer you utter bastard,_ Al couldn't help but rant to himself upon seeing the name of his maternal grandfather.

After taking a moment to control his shock, Al decided to ask about something in order to confirm his suspicions. Pointing at the name that was different from the rest, Al asked, "Why is mine the only one that's glowing? And how come that one is brown and not purple like the others?"

"Colors show whether the person was magical or not. Brown like your grandmother means a muggle and purple like the rest of your family means magical." Baldwin said in a grim voice. "The glow shows that you're alive. I'm sorry Al, but it looks like you were right about your mother."

"Oh." Al's voice cracked at that as he experienced a completely unexpected wave of emotional anguish at the thought of Sandy being dead. Apparently the emotions of his new body were capable of influencing him, as there was no other reason for Al to mourn the death of a stranger.

"Could I be alone now?" Al asked as he looked down and concentrated on his hands.

"Of course." Healer Piper replied, speaking up for the first time since the interview began. "Gentlemen, I believe you have everything you need."

"We do." Bladwin said as he and his partner stood and began to make their way out of the room. "Someone will be by once the Black's have been contacted."

Al tuned out the rest of what the adults were saying as he was to busy going over the fact that Voldemort's Uncle was his grandfather and all the ways that his life was going to be complicated do to that fact. And knowing the type of person that Morfin Gaunt had been, both in personality and looks, there was no way that Sandy Owens was conceived voluntarily was just icing on the cake of the incredibly shitty day he'd had.

After what felt like hours of pondering the craptastic explosion that was his situation, Al finally decided to worry about it later and went back to sleep.


End file.
